BALFE’S STRANGE ROOM MATE

The composer of The Bohemian Girl, Balfe, once had an experience he never wanted to repeat.

He and several other musicians were hired for a short run of musical work on the outskirts of London. Rather than commute back and forth every day, they decided to rent rooms nearby. But vacancies were scarce, and Balfe ended up taking whatever he could find—at a house that looked none too inviting from the outside.

It was late, and the landlady seemed unsure she could fit him in at all. She left him waiting in the hallway while she “worked something out.” Eventually she returned, flustered, and told him his room was ready.

Exhausted, Balfe went straight to sleep without even looking around. Early the next morning, he finally examined his quarters.

And in a closet connected to his room, he discovered a corpse—apparently shoved into that cramped space in a hurry.

Balfe didn’t pause to debate etiquette. He got out immediately—grateful, at least, that he hadn’t found it by moonlight the night before. The landlady, clearly unable to resist the pull of quick cash, had yanked her deceased relative out of a temporary resting place to rent the space. Balfe had calmly moved in and taken the body’s place.

He could joke later about the woman’s “business sense,” but the shock stuck. From that day on, he never slept in an unfamiliar room without checking it first.